The Only One He Ever Feared
by kasviel
Summary: SLASH The decline of a boy's soul; Tom Marvolo Riddle during his final years as a human...and my version of how Voldemort was born. The death of a soul and the birth of a monster, and Dumbledore caught up inbetween. This story is COMPLETE. Just give me a
1. Prologue

_The Only One He Ever Feared_

**Author's Notes:** I have been wanting to write for Tom & Dumbledore not as a couple ; for a very long time. I know, Tom says Dumbledore hates him, and he probably has hated him all along, but.....I would like to picture Dumbledore to be a little more compassionate than that. Tom was not evil from the very first day he came to Hogwarts....right? Ah well....whatever. My interpretation of the past, 'nuff said.

**Prologue: Beginning of an End**

**Midnight at the Hog's Head; Beginning of the First Dark War**

"It's Tom Riddle, in'it?"

The day Albus Dumbledore had been dreading for years had finally come. The recent trend of Muggle killings had escalated to an intolerable high, the Ministry was beginning to realize their limited power, and now the name of his former pupil had slipped another former student's lips. Beside him, Minerva frowned a little.

"Tom Riddle?" she inquired. "Why, that is the name on that medal in the school showcase, is it not?"

"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore said wearily. Beside him, Rubeus Hagrid nodded to affirm this. "Tom Marvolo Riddle was once a student, during the time Hagrid was that age as well."

"He's the reason I was kicked out, he was," Hagrid cut in indigenously. "Thought he was my friend, y'see, but he was just usin' me to cover his own hide."

"What did he do that was so bad they expelled you for it?" Minerva asked, eyes wide.

"Well Tom is the Heir of Slytherin, he is," Hagrid went on as Dumbledore sat back in his chair and fell silent. "He opened the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed some legendary beast on the half-blood students! A girl died, and when he couldn' keep up with his plan, he framed me an' Aragog for her death."

"Aragog?" 

"He was me pet spider, but he'd never kill anyone if I told 'im not to," Hagrid replied. "But everyone believed 'im over me, him bein' so smart an' all."

"That's terrible," Minerva said sympathetically. "Albus, didn't you--"

"Try to defend him?" Albus guessed with a brief smile. "Yes, I tried, Minerva. I tried many, many things in those days....for Tom's sake, for Hagrid's sake. Sadly, some situations have no remedy."

"So you believe that boy, that Tom Riddle has grown into the leader of the Death Eaters?" Minerva asked. "You believe that he is the man known as 'Voldemort'?"

"I know he is that man, because I have watched him grow into what he is today," Dumbledore explained. "I never forgot Tom, and I never forgave him for what he did to Hagrid. One might say I dogged him for some years after he graduated, although he always seemed to be a step ahead of me due to my demanding job at Hogwarts. I knew of many of the crimes he committed as a young adult, and I confronted him with each of them, much to his annoyance. Still, I was never able to have the Ministry convict him or even be suspicious of him, and so he kept his freedom. We had our arguments, even a duel....but I lost track of him nearly twenty years ago. I suppose he went underground recently and gathered supporters that way."

Minerva opened her mouth to inquire about the duel, but Hagrid intervened. "Well, enough o' that Tom Riddle, le's just hope they catch 'im soon enough." He stretched greatly. "Whoo, I'm beat. Think I'll be turnin' in now." He looked between Dumbledore and Minerva. "Yeah. G'night."

Minerva and Albus nodded. "Goodnight, Hagrid."

There was a silence. Minerva was mulling over the information in her mind, eyes sharp and thoughtful. Dumbledore took the time to finish his drink, although his mind was busy as well.

"Well....it is late," he finally said, rising to his feet. "If you will excuse me, Minerva, I will be on my way also."

Minerva nodded. Albus went to leave, but she touched his hand suddenly. He looked back around at her, eyes a bit weary.

"Was there nothing you could have done, Albus?" she asked tentatively.

"I have asked myself that same question a thousand times over, Minerva," Dumbledore replied with a sad smile. "The truth is that I do not know. Perhaps I never will."

"I was going to tell you not to feel any guilt," Minerva told him. "I hardly believe a man capable of such horrible crimes could have ever been redeemed. We have both seen this kind of irrevocable evil before."

"Yes, but I have known Tom since before he was so irrevocably evil," Dumbledore pointed out. "Upon arriving at Hogwarts, he was already scarred from early childhood, but he still had some form of innocence to him." Dumbledore's light eyes were clouded by remembrance. "He was a cute child, wide-eyed and very thin beneath all that disheveled black hair. But there was a guarded nature to him, and great fear that he tried hard to hide. He thinks that I hated him from the beginning, but I did not; I knew he would grow to be special, but I was uncertain whether he would use his gifts for good or evil. Over the years I tried to keep him on the right path, but he mistook my guidance for mistrust and was offended. I singled him out a bit, yes, but only for his own good. Sadly, he never believed that and came to see me as an enemy eventually." 

"And that became a self-fulfilling prophecy?" 

"No, I have never been Tom's enemy before now," Dumbledore told her. "I suppose I was hanging on to my last fragments of hope that he would give up his plans or grow out of his immature hatred and anger. I suppose...my hopes were in vain now." 

Minerva touched his hand and left, saying nothing. Dumbledore followed, his step a little heavier. Inevitable as he had always known it was....he could not help but feel a tinge of regret. Tom was no longer the difficult, crafty student....he was a man now, and a man destined for awful things. All the years of watching him grow up were for naught; in the end, Dumbledore had merely been a bystander at a tragedy, watching everything come apart before his eyes and helpless to stop it.

But _had he been_ helpless?

No one would ever know.

In Lord Voldemort's mind, Dumbledore was pushed aside but never forgotten. Lurking in the shadows of Hogsmeade awaiting a meeting with one of his many contacts, he could sense his old teacher's presence nearby. He was uneasy, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge his apprehension. His contact would show soon enough, and they would both vanish into the night. How he loved the night. It had always been the only time where he felt safe, even in that godforsaken orphanage. Everyone was helpless in the darkness, and so they slept, vulnerable to anything. Those who were bold enough to face the night became part of it, as he had, and took the greatest advantage over the normal folk.

"Nice night for a stroll, isn't it Tom?"

Voldemort's spine stiffened. Then there were those strange creatures like Albus Dumbledore, able to adapt to any environment and take the advantage over almost any other creature. Such creatures were dangerous and had to be dealt with using extreme caution.

"Excuse me?" Voldemort turned, though still half-hidden by shadow. "My name is not Tom."

Dumbledore smiled a little. "Yes it is," he said firmly. His keen eyes pierced the darkness and surveyed his old student. The man was hardly recognizable with his even paler white skin, red, slit-pupil eyes, and that awful snake-like face. "Tom, what have you done to yourself?"

"I _became_ **Lord Voldemort**," Voldemort said tensely. Dumbledore's tone had not changed one bit; even after his crimes and the years that had passed, Dumbledore spoke as a teacher speaks with a difficult child. "I expected you of all people would recognize high black magic."

"Oh I recognize it, Tom," Dumbledore said, eyes hard. "Believe it or not, you are not the first person to give up your humanity. I have seen many as desperate and foolish as you in my life."

"And you defeated every one, am I right?" Voldemort said snidely. His long thin hand was inside his robe, fingering the wand in his pocket. "Is that what you came for, Dumbledore? To defeat me?"

"If I thought it would make any difference, I would," Dumbledore replied. "However, I seem to recall beating you once before, and that doesn't seem to have had much impact on you. What will impact you, Tom? Azkaban? Death?"

"Ha. Neither can hold me," Voldemort retorted. "I have reached heights you would not believe, old man. Yes, I am not the first to have given up humanity, but I am the first to do so this completely. I'm not human anymore, Dumbledore, and that means I am beyond death or containment."

"There are powers in this world that no one, not even you, is above," Dumbledore said calmly. "Those powers will stop you eventually, Tom."

"If you possess such powers, let us duel right now," Voldemort growled. He slid his wand from his robes, ruby-shaded eyes glimmering in the moonlight. To his fury, Dumbledore met his gaze with even strictness untouched by fear.

"No."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "No? Is that fear stopping you?"

Dumbledore made a little sound of amusement. "No, I do not fear you, Tom. A duel would do no good. What would I do upon victory? Everything I did before? You are not a child anymore, Tom, and my efforts to guide you ended the moment you became the murderer you are now."

"Then try to kill me." Voldemort grinned evilly. "Go ahead, Dumbledore. Death is easy to bring about for a great wizard like you, surely. Kill me. I am a man, as you say, and a man who deserves death. Give it to me."

"I could never kill you, Tom."

"Why not?"

"You are so brilliant that I am certain you are capable of figuring it out," Dumbledore said simply. He thought for a moment, and then added, "Then again, perhaps your emotional ignorance will never allow it. I pity you, Tom."

"MY NAME IS 'VOLDEMORT'!" the man screamed furiously. He lifted his wand. "Avada--" 

A very fast command left Dumbledore's lips, and a brilliant golden light flew from the wand he'd been holding all throughout the conversation. Voldemort was hit hard by it and flew backwards, wand shooting out of his hand. He hit the wall of a building lining the alley hard and crumbled to his knees. Pain welled within his chest to an overwhelming point, and his lungs buckled inside. He clutched his chest as he tried to gasp for air, and then his head exploded with a throbbing pain. His red eyes teared uncontrollably.

"You should have known better," Dumbledore said, standing over him. He looked very superior all of a sudden with his tall, noble figure set alight by the moonlight. His face was hard and severe, every line exuding anger.

"Reckless of me," Voldemort gasped. He looked up at Dumbledore with a shaky, red-faced defiance. "There. You could have killed me then, but you did not. Why?"

"Foolish man." Dumbledore shook his head, pacing briefly. He stopped, looked down at Tom, and flicked his wand. The man was struck by an invisible force full across the side of his face. "I am through with you, Tom. You always thought me your enemy, and when we meet next that will finally be the truth."

He turned to leave. Clutching his face, Voldemort sprung to his feet. "YOU WILL REGRET LEAVING ME MY LIFE!" he roared. "SOON ALL OF THE WIZARDING WORLD WILL LEARN TO FEAR ME! YOU ARE A FOOL, DUMBLEDORE!" He began to laugh a chilling high-pitched laugh. "You cannot even kill me! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Dumbledore vanished, and the pain overtook the Dark Lord once again. He fell to his knees, entire body set engulfed in a fiery, hot soreness. His thin arm draped across his chest and clung to his shoulder, and his body heaved with grueling attempts to breathe. "Damn you, Dumbledore....always...._always_ humiliating me...." He shut his eyes over the splitting headache. "Damn you, you will pay dearly...."

"Lord Voldemort!"

Young Lucius Malfoy's voice was a relief to hear. Footsteps followed, and soon the Death Eater had helped him to his feet. Voldemort steadied himself and stood with his aching head high, despite the intolerable pain.

"What happened?"

"Dumbledore," Voldemort snarled. "Is the contact with you, Malfoy?" 

"Yes."

"Let us not delay this meeting any further," Voldemort said.

"But Master, you are badly--"

"I am fine, Lucius," Voldemort said. "Come."

"....Yes sir."

As they walked, Lucius stared at him. Voldemort could see the surprise in his eyes, the disappointment that the Dark Lord had been so severely injured by Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort felt his normally cold, pale face burning with embarrassment.

"Is he that powerful, Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes, Lucius, he is that powerful," Voldemort replied in boredom. "But do not misunderstand; I carelessly let my hatred overtake my actions, and he took advantage of that. In a true duel, we would be more evenly matched."

"You let your hatred..." Lucius trailed off in thought for a moment. "Master, if I may be so bold to say that you hardly seem the sort to be overcome with emotion."

"You may not be so bold, Lucius," Voldemort said tensely. "I am usually smarter than that, yes, but Dumbledore...is a very old thorn in my side. We go back many years, and all those years and memories are miserable."

"I see."

Lucius said no more, and Voldemort left it at that. It would take many hours to explain the exact nature of Voldemort and Dumbledore's rivalry, and hardly worth the effort. Hardly anyone knew of Voldemort's past life as Tom Riddle, and he was intent on keeping things that way.

**_Prologue: Beginning of an End _ End**


	2. Chapter One

_The Only One He Ever Feared_

**Author's Notes:** I love Dumbledore/Voldemort confrontations :-)

**Chapter One: His Final Lessons**

**Hogwarts; nearly 30 years prior**

Tom Riddle was nervous. It did not show in his calm, easy stride or his placid young face, but the anxiety was coursing through his body. Not only was serving detention a rarity for the Head Boy that year, but serving it with was Professor Albus Dumbledore even rarer. Normally, Tom was smart enough to avoid the suspicious teacher, but he had slipped in class with a shockingly nasty reply to one of Dumbledore's questions. It had been a strange day and his mood had been testy, but he regretted it dearly. Dumbledore had been very upset with him since Hagrid's expulsion last year, but until now had no reason to confront Tom with his anger. Giving him the opportunity had been stupid, and Tom knew it, but it was too late now.

The halls of the school were mostly empty due to Christmas holiday, and Dumbledore's classroom door loomed only a few doors down. Tom drew a breath. He had to be calm and in control when he faced his hated professor, otherwise he would only get himself expelled. That was what Dumbledore had always wanted, he was sure, and he would be damned if he let that old man win their seven-year battle.

Tom bravely opened the door to the classroom and strode right in. Dumbledore was already standing behind his desk, light eyes stern behind his spectacles. He motioned to a desk and bid Tom to sit down. Tom sat, avoiding the piercing eyes. Dumbledore walked over to the door and locked it with a charm. 

"Sir, before you say anything, please accept my sincere apology," Tom quickly cut in. "I was in a strange mood. You know how morose I can be during the beginning of the year. Granted, that is no excuse for such behavior, and I am very, very sorry." 

Dumbledore stared at him. "Yes, I suppose murder will have that effect on a person."

Tom blinked, making the mistake of meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "Excuse me?" 

Dumbledore's piercing gaze was reaching into his soul, and he could feel it. Over the summer he had figured out that Dumbledore was a Legilimens: someone capable of looking into a person's mind and able to comprehend the contents. The counter-magic of Legilimency was Occlumency, the ability to block one's emotions and thoughts from being seen. Tom had studied the art during the summer, but never was able to quite master it. His eyes widened, and he turned his face away from the professor.

"Yes, oh yes, you do," Dumbledore said quietly. "Tom....after all these years, how can you expect me to sit by and do nothing while you ruin your life? I watched last year as you opened the Chamber of Secrets and caused a death, then blamed your best friend for the ensuing chaos. And what did I do? What _could_ I do? Nothing."

"I was devastated to find what Hagrid had done," Tom lied, "and turning him in was the hardest thing I have ever-"

"Tom, do not lie to me!" Dumbledore shouted.

Tom's eyed went wide again. Dumbledore almost never shouted, and certainly never at one student directly. In fact, Tom had never seen him this confrontational before. He was not easy-going nor humorous, but forbiddingly angry.

"A magic-related murder was brought to my attention this past summer," Dumbledore went on, voice lower but still edged with fury. "Three Muggles dead in their home somewhere in the countryside. They were Tom Marvolo Riddle Senior, his wife, and their son."

"Oh, is my father dead?" Tom inquired with feigned interest. "You will have to forgive my lack of remorse."

"One man saw you, Tom," Dumbledore said quietly. "He was the man suspected of committing the crime, your father's gardener. He told me he had seen a boy that fit your description exactly the night of the incident." 

"My father hated magical people, and my looks are not so extraordinary," Tom said calmly. "Most likely, he angered the wrong wizard, who happened to look like me."

"I showed the man your picture, and he identified you."

Tom looked up at him in surprise. ".....No." He fought back the emotion from his face. "No. You are bluffing."

"I am not."

"Of course you are!" Tom jumped to his feet. "Were all this true, I would be on trial for murder right now! If you had so much evidence, you would have taken it to the Ministry by now! For God's sake, it's been nearly three months since he was killed!"

"Ah ha, so you know he was killed in August."

Tom's jaw dropped an inch. "I....Well....I assumed as much. You did say summer."

"I never said whether it was the beginning or end of it," Dumbledore pointed out. "Now you are caught in your lie, and what will you do, Tom?"

"Ask you to prove it to the Ministry," Tom said coldly. "You're threatening me, aren't you? Go ahead, tell them everything you just told me. Send me to Azkaban. I'm not afraid."

"You should be, but not of Azkaban." Dumbledore sat Tom down in his chair with a flick of his wand. "I will not send you to prison or execution yet, Tom. You are still a child, and there is still some hope for you." 

"How altruistic of you," Tom sneered. "Well, if you have no plans to bring me to the Ministry for a crime I did not commit, then why _did_ you bring up my father's murder?" He shrugged. "You plan to lecture me throughout detention about why I should have, what? Forgiven that disgusting man for causing my mother heartache so great that it killed her? Forgiven him for leaving me to suffer in a Muggle orphanage when he had more than enough money to support his first son himself?"

"I had no interest in your forgiving him or not, as that is your personal business," Dumbledore said. "I only hoped that after years in the wizarding world and Muggle world you had realized one simply thing: no one has the right to kill another human being." 

Tom bit his tongue to keep from speaking.

"Now, I have taken lives for the reason of saving others," Dumbledore went on. "However, I was already an adult when I made the choices I did. I knew what I was doing and I was certain the benefit of my actions justified them. You are a child, Tom. You are angry and hurt and bitter; I understand all that! But those are not good enough reasons to _kill_!"

"I thought I was here to be punished for backtalk," Tom said tersely. "These matters have nothing to do with Hogwarts."

"They have everything to do with it!" Dumbledore snapped. "All your education and accolades are for nothing if you keep on the path you've created! No murderer is great or accomplished. A criminal is nothing more than a criminal. Why strive for such a future?" 

"I strive to make the best of my power," Tom said. "My accomplishments will shake the world one day. Whether they are for better or worse shall be a matter of personal opinion, but I believe in my cause and I do believe the benefit will justify my actions."

"Nothing justifies the murder of innocents," Dumbledore told him. "**Nothing**." 

"Why do you believe the worst of me?" Tom asked, standing again. "You've always hated me! Is it because I am a filthy Mudblood?"

"I never hated you, Tom," Dumbledore said. "From the moment you came here, I knew you were gifted, special. I have been trying to _help_ you, stubborn child."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because I wish every student in Hogwarts the best. I am a teacher, it is my job to care."

"It is your job to teach," Tom snipped. "You're lying. You want me to trust you so that you'll be able to manipulate me. I've seen this before; I'm not stupid!" 

"Damn it! Why can't you trust me?"

"The mistrust goes both ways, _Professor_," Tom said. "You may think I am an ignorant little orphan from the Muggle world, but I am not."

"I never thought that," Dumbledore said wearily. "I am only trying to see if you have any humanity left in you. Do you feel anything, Tom?"

"No." Tom lifted his head. "There has not been one thing in my life that I've done and lived to regret."

Dumbledore met his eyes. "Not one thing?"

"No." Tom went on carefully, "If I ever have hurt anyone, they either deserved it or were a sacrifice towards a greater goal. I have never mourned anyone, never even considered grievance."

"And I have never considered hitting a student until now," Dumbledore said quietly. "Tom, if I were a man of little restraint-" 

"You would bludgeon me?" Tom guessed in amusement. He held out his arms. "Go on. Strike me. I've been hit in the orphanage for years! Why not here?"

"I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me."

"No, it was honest!" Tom said. "You've been wanting to hurt me for years, and now you have reason! Hit me!"

Dumbledore instead embraced the young man. Tom's eyes looked ready to burst if they expanded any more, and he froze instantly. No one had ever held him in their arms before, and his mind drew a cold blank at the physical contact. The shock began to wear away, and for some reason he felt his heart being tugged at.

"What are you doing?" he asked, licking his lips. His eye twitched. "W-what are you doing?" 

Dumbledore held him determinedly. "You're not inhuman, Tom. You can feel. I see emotion in you. Why do you try so hard to fight it away?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO FEEL!" Tom screamed. He began to struggle. "Let go of me!"

"Has no one loved you before, Tom?"

Tom began to feel desperate within the man's arms. There was no malice in Dumbledore and he knew it; there was only genuine concern, it seemed. But it had to be a trick. He was trying to weaken him into a confession, into regret and tears. He knew the one thing Tom had always secretly wanted was someone to care about him, someone who loved him, and he was trying to make him believe that could happen. But it could not, and Tom knew it.

"Let go of me," he hissed. "LET GO OF ME!"

"Why? So you can find another dark corner to hide in? So you can be alone again with only your misery to entertain?"

"I am a student and you are a professor! This is wrong!"

"What is? I'm only hugging you, Tom."

Tom gave an awful, blood-curling shriek. He struggled harder and finally broke loose. He jumped back from the professor, wand pointed. "You stay away from me!" he seethed. "STAY AWAY!"

"God forbid someone care for you," Dumbledore said, uncharacteristically cynical. "Put your wand away, Tom. Attacking a professor will be cause for expulsion."

"You've been trying to drive me to it on purpose!" Tom yelled. He put his wand away. "Well, I am much too smart for that." He was shaking, however. "I will never trust you or anyone else. I hate you."

"You fear forgiving and love, and so you fear me," Dumbledore said knowingly. "You are deathly afraid, aren't you?"

"I'm leaving!"

Tom rushed to the door. "_Alohomora_!" 

"Not so fast."

With a soft utter from Dumbledore, Tom's body froze. He struggled to move his legs and clutch the doorknob that was just beneath his hand, but he could not. Dumbledore came up beside him and locked the door once again. "You are going to sit--" He sent Tom flying into his seat with a flick of his wand. "-and serve out the rest of this detention." 

Tom glared at Dumbledore. He had underestimated the professor and overestimated his own talents. From now on, he would have to be much more careful not to be caught. Thank goodness he had only this one year before graduation.

"I know you may wonder how I will punish you while keeping you paralyzed," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. "First thing is first; _Accio Pensieve_." A silver bowl flew into Dumbledore's hands. He placed it on the desk before Tom and gently turned the youth's head towards it. "I want you to watch very carefully, although I would not send you inside any of the memories."

Imagery appeared inside the bowl. People were crying in a darkened place. Tom gazed blankly at the scene, but his mind was not paying much attention. There was a way to break free of the spell he was under, and he was trying to test it.

"Myrtle's funeral," Dumbledore explained. "She was their only daughter."

_She was also a Mudblood,_ Tom thought to himself. It was pleasing to see the pain he had caused her half and half family. He slowed his body from the inside, letting his mind go blank. In his mind, he began to chant the counter-spell and break the paralysis. 

Dumbledore must have sense his satisfaction; he moved his hand over the Pensieve, and another scene appeared. It was Rubeus Hagrid, and his father trying to console him after he had been expelled. Tom might have scoffed or sneered had he control over his body; instead, his eyes gleamed coldly.

Dumbledore sighed softly. "None of it even scratches the surface of your heart," he observed defeatedly. He put a hand on Tom's shoulder and squeezed it. "Alll right then. Let us see what has made you the way you are."

Tom ignored him, trying desperately to break free of the hold on his body. Dumbledore leaned down before him so their faces were level and peered directly into his eyes. Tom's heartbeat accelerated. He called upon his shaky Occlumency skills, trying to lock Dumbledore out. Eyes locked, Tom began to feel Dumbledore prying through his memories, bringing them to the surface. Every insult, all the laughter and ridicule, every shove from a stronger Muggle kid, every 'Mudblood' his fellow classmates had uttered to him.....and then....

"Dear God..."

Tom's eyes flashed. In an instant, he had broken his body free of the spell and jumped to his feet. At the same time, he felt his mind close like a book, and Dumbledore stumbled backwards a step. A look of understanding passed between them, and Tom's face went red with shame.

"Tom, I am so sorry," Dumbledore apologized again. "That is why you hate them so....all that pain...."

Tom shut his eyes and tears delicately traced down his cheeks. "Damn you." 

"I see why it is so hard for you to believe not all Muggles are evil," Dumbledore told him. "You grew up completely alone and unloved, misunderstood because of your differences. You yearn for respect because they treated you like a joke; you lust for power because you were helpless against them. You wish for destruction because they destroyed you."

"But I have mastered Occlumency now!" Tom declared, tears streaming from his crazed eyes. "I never have to feel again! All I have to do is claim my revenge, show them who I really am!"

"That world is not your world anymore, Tom," Dumbledore told him. "You never have to go back. Leave the darkness behind, Tom. Do not let their ignorance and blind hatred spark your own."

"What good is all this, all this power if I can't even use it to pay back my enemies!" Tom shouted. "Why must we be the ones to hide in our own world? Why must we hide and sneak around for _them_? IT IS NOT THE RIGHT THING TO DO! Right and wrong do not even matter! POWER MATTERS! And I have power over them! I don't care who has to die! I will show both worlds my true potential realized! And then they will pay for all they have done to me."

"In the end, you will be destroying yourself more than anyone." 

"Then so be it!" Tom hissed. "I deserve to be destroyed! I'M ONE OF THEM!"

"Who you are is written in your soul, not your blood!" Dumbledore argued. "The Riddle lineage is not tainting you! Your malice is! Every murder you have comitted has dirtied you, not your blood!"

"As I said, I am one of them," Tom said softly. "I have nothing to lose."

"They are winning over you, Tom." 

"We'll see who is winning when they are dying beneath me," Tom retorted. "You are very, very good, Professor Dumbledore. You have broken me, taken everything inside and hit me with it. Punishing me physically was not enough, and so you destroyed me emotionally. But as good as you are, you will never be able to banish my darkness. I wish you could wave away all my hatred and pain with your wand, but no one can. Only I can ease my suffering, and there is only one way for me to accomplish that."

"Through revenge?"

"Yes."

"It will do nothing for you, Tom," Dumbledore said. "You will spend your life in hypocricy and chaos, riding the high of revenge until you come crashing down with the realization that not even vengance can put your soul at ease. As long as you hate Muggles, you will always hate yourself."

"Yes, I know that," Tom said simply. "Do you think I plan to be happy?" He laughed that chilling laugh of his. "Ha ha ha ha! I've given up on the illusions that weaken most, like love and happiness. In this world, the only absolute is power. That is all I've ever wanted." 

"Not when you were a small child."

"No, but childhood dies quickly," Tom replied. "Besides, my childhood dream was to make the world a better place." He shrugged. "I still have that dream, only I've devised a way to make it come true."

"You are not the only person that has suffered in life, Tom," Dumbledore informed him. "The world will never be perfect; there will always be a child suffering somewhere, and many suffering worse than even you did. If no one let their past go, the world would not have survived thus far." 

"What do you mean!" Tom exclaimed. "You saw what I went through!"

"Yes, and I understand your pain," Dumbledore replied. "However, I never said I agreed that your pain was a viable excuse for your crimes. It is not. Your life in that world is over now; you must grow out of the childish anger and desire for revenge and begin your adult life."

"What adult life? They took everything from me!" Tom shouted. "They destroyed my soul! Most humans live for love and family, but I do not believe in either! What can I possibly live for other than revenge?" 

"Yourself."

Tom wiped his eyes and cheek on his sleeve. "I hate myself. Living alone with no goal other than to survive and make money would kill me."

Dumbledore stared at him, morbidly interested in the tragic youth even though his own heart was breaking for the lad. There had been times when he wondered whether Tom was human or not, and now he knew the answer; Tom was a human locked inside himself, in danger of suffocating his soul to death.

"I would hate myself for never taking revenge," Tom said, "and instead of hurting my enemies, I would begin to hurt myself. I would tear myself apart piece by piece over the years until I died alone and unfulfilled."

Dumbledore reached out to touch his shoulder, but the boy flinched away. "You don't have to be alone," he said gently. "Let yourself believe in love. Let your guard down. You are much too young to pull inside of yourself and hide from humanity."

Tom frowned through a muddle of emotions. His hands were clutched into fists, arms drawn up before his chest, and his eyes were staring nowhere. "You are trying to trick me into something," he said. "There is something you want from me."

"No, I only want to help-"

"Liar!" Tom shouted. "You don't care about me! No one ever has! STOP LYING TO ME!"

"I am not lying! Tom, I love you!"

"SHUT UP!" Tom screamed hysterically. "Why must you torment me? You hate me!" 

"No!"

Dumbledore tried to hold Tom by the shoulders, but the boy maniacally fought him away. "Get away from me! Don't touch me! Liar!"

Dumbledore held his hands up. "Yes, yes, I will not touch you. Calm yourself, please."

"How can you feed me those disgusting lies?!" Tom shrieked. "You are just like all the others! You want to take everything I have until I'm nothing but a living shell!"

"Tom, please calm down."

"It isn't enough that I'm empty!" Tom shouted on, pacing back and forth, hands held about his head. The desks around him began to rattle with the force of his rage. "It isn't enough that I am alone and have nothing! I'M TIRED OF BEING EVERYONE'S JOKE!" He shot a spell at a desk and it exploded. "WHY AM I ALWAYS SINGLED OUT?!"

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the boy. "_Calmus_!" 

Tom was hit with an overwhelming exhaustion, but he fought it away. "I want to be left alone!" he yelled hoarsely, destroying another desk. "I want to be alone!" He crumbled to his knees in tears. "I....don't want to be human. I...." 

Dumbledore knelt beside the troubled young man and ran his hand over his back. "...There, there."

"How have you reduced me to this?" Tom sobbed. "I thought I was so much stronger than this..."

Dumbledore helped Tom to his feet. "You are strong, but not invulnerable. That is a good thing. Come, let us get you taken care of in the hospital wing." 

"Hospital wing?" Tom broke away from Dumbledore, but he stumbled. "I am not sick or injured."

"You need something to calm you," Dumbledore replied. "The spell was only a temporary fix; you will need some rest."

"I can rest in the common room," Tom retorted, holding his head. "I will be fine, so long as you stay away from me."

"I shall keep my distance."

Tom looked back over his shoulder at his professor, and then stumbled out. He made it to the common room, and collapsed in a corner. Fortunately it was empty, and he was able to sob until he was too exhausted to sob anymore.

Dumbledore was optimistic that the heart wrenching episode in detention would give Tom a better perspective on life and open his eyes to his flaws. If not, he still believed it would scare the lad into being good. For some weeks, he heard nothing from Tom. Vacation ended, and Tom ignored Dumbledore completely during class and in the halls. Dumbledore kept his distance as promised, certain the boy was giving his life some well-needed thought.

This was not the case. Tom spent the weeks licking his wounds and perfecting his Occlumency. He lay low out of a new fear of his professor, nothing more.

The seasons changed twice, and the end of Tom's last year arrived. He wrote a lovely speech of lies and hidden, cryptic messages to give at the graduation ceremony, and bought special robes. Everyone in the school was buzzing on the last day, and even he found some Slytherins to talk with. They lingered in the cool dungeons, laughing over Mudbloods and black magic. Tom had never spoken of his heritage out loud, and so it was easy for him to fit in with the purebloods. 

"What was the most disappointing thing of the year?" 

The question came up about mid-conversation. A boy answered, "The cancelled trip to Hogsmeade." Another replied, "Not passing that stupid Herbology exam! I would have aced the entire curriculum!" His girlfriend cynically added, "Not seeing you pass the entire curriculum, love."

Tom smirked coldly. "No more Mudblood deaths."

They were a bit shocked, but being Slytherin, they laughed it off. "The Chamber of Secrets being opened was exciting," the girl said. "And of course, we purebloods were all safe from harm."

"You really hate them that much, Riddle?" the first boy inquired. 

"Why wouldn't I?" Tom replied. "They occupy the entire planet with their useless lives, while we are forced to hide in an underground society regardless of how much better than them we are."

"He does have a point, eh?" the girl agreed.

"I plan to change all that one day, though," Tom went on boldly. "The Mudbloods in Hogwarts, the silly rules protecting them...."

"How will you do that?" the girl laughed. "It's only getting worse, after all. I hear Dumbledore plans to become Headmaster one day." 

"Dumbledore is a fool," Tom scoffed. "Besides, he is an ancient fool at that. His end will come, and I will be there to undo all his idealistic plans."

"Uh oh." 

"That's right," Tom went on. "Dumbledore is headed for big trouble."

A voice spoke from behind him suddenly. "I believe I have found big trouble, Tom." 

Tom's eyes widened and he whipped around. No sooner had he gasped, "Professor!" than he was being dragged off by the arm. Dumbledore led him into an empty classroom on the far side of the hall and threw him inside.

"All these months I've believed you had changed, that you had learned from that fateful detention," Dumbledore said furiously. "You lied to me, told me you would at least try to live a normal life after school." 

"Professor Dumbledore, I am so sorry you had to hear all that," Tom apologized smoothly. "It's the last day, everyone is in a strange mood. We were merely joking around." 

"You were not joking, Tom."

"Did you look into my mind and decide that?" Tom met his gaze confidently. "I am an Occlumens; that will not work on me anymore."

"I don't need Legilimency to know how you feel," Dumbledore replied, equally confident. "My goodness...here we are on graduation day, and you have not changed at all. You stand poised in all your ignorant glory, ready to destroy your life for the sake of petty revenge."

"Please don't ruin this day with arguments," Tom begged. "I've worked so hard for this."

"I am only trying to make you aware that all that hard work will be for nothing," Dumbledore told him. "Why can you not understand that?" 

"Professor, I apologize for calling you a fool and using that slur," Tom said briskly. "If you will excuse me, I would like to join my-"

"You expect me to send you out into the world with your head filled with dreams of murder and hatred?" Dumbledore asked, barring his way. "This is my last chance, Tom."

"To be honest, I have never listened to you before," Tom said coldly. "Why would I start now that I am finally going to be rid of you once and for all?" 

"You will never be rid of me." Dumbledore took him by the arm. "Now before you leave, I am going to do something I should have done ages ago."

Tom eyed him warily. "What?" 

"Come."

He led Tom out of the classroom. There was something very ominous about being led by Dumbledore to his office this one last time, but Tom ignored his fear as always. Whatever it was, it could not possibly be as horrible as that detention; he had survived that breakdown, and so he would survive this as well.

In his office near the Transfiguration classroom, Dumbledore wasted no time; using magic, he forced Tom over his desk. Tom laughed slightly, unable to stand. "Ha. Wouldn't you say I have long since outgrown a spanking?"

"You have outgrown _nothing_, Tom. You've only gotten more childish, if anything." He brandished an odd cane-like object from inside a drawer. "This, Tom Riddle, is a _Veravirga_, or a _Truth-Bearing Rod_."

Tom's eyes widened. "You!" 

"Ah, so you know of it," Dumbledore said. "This instrument's purpose is to punish liars for their crimes. It is capable of seeing every wrong a person has committed in the past week, year, or lifetime, and gives corporal punishment accordingly." 

"You never use physical discipline!" Tom exclaimed. "You've said so!"

"I want you to remember me by this. Think of it as your last warning from me." Dumbledore waved the object and pointed it at Tom. It shook and took the form of a snake whip. Tom gaped in horror, but Dumbledore only laughed. "No, no. That is much too cruel, even for you." He shook the hateful thing again and it took the form of a leather strap. Dumbledore shook his head. "It seems the _Veravirga_ wishes to give you the most severe of punishments."

"This is ridiculous," Tom sniffed. "Not only am I too old for this humiliation, but to do it on graduation day is simply sadistic. Now I am certain you hate me."

"If I hated you, I would let you go on with your self-destruction and watch it all happily from a safe distance." Dumbledore waved the strap, and it became a cane. "That will have to do."

Tom glared at him. "You're heartless." 

"Says the juvenile murderer."

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, torn between his sympathy and his anger. Tom had been hit enough in his lifetime, but never punished for his crimes in the wizarding world (the only world he respected). During their seven years together, Dumbledore had tried everything else to fight the boy's diehard prejudices. Tom had brushed aside all of it and continued on his destructive way. Now here they were on their last day as teacher and student, Tom desperate to escape Dumbledore and Dumbledore desperate to get through to him.

Tom had braced himself and was honestly not very worried; he had taken many beatings at the orphanage, and this one would be no different. After today, he would never have to worry about being punished by anyone again.

".....I cannot."

Tom looked over his shoulder. "_What_?"

Dumbledore stuffed the rod thing back into the drawer. "You would have deserved it, all of it, but I cannot bring myself to do it." He waved his hand and Tom was released from the desk. "I can't hurt you."

This stung more than any rod might have. Tom shook his head in wonder. "After all I've done...you can't even cane me..."

"No. I love you too much."

Tom began to laugh out of nervousness towards the 'L' word and disbelief of Dumbledore's pitiful attempt to hurt him. "Ha ha....ha ha ha ha ha! You can't even hit me! Ha ha ha! Love! What a pathetic illusion!"

This made it very tempting to pull the _Veravirga_ back out of the drawer, but Dumbledore refrained. Still, he did not let Tom go off on his sinister little way, laughing at his lack of severity. He pulled the boy over his lap by the shoulder.

"Ohhh!" Tom breathed as he was suddenly flung halfway upside-down. "_What are you doing_?"

Even with Tom being who he was, it took effort for the normally liberal professor to strike him. Nonetheless, he began to give Tom his first corrective whacking. He even began to find it satisfying as he went over all the years of backtalk and betrayal.

Tom could feel himself blushing and it infuriated him. "This is a _Muggle_ punishment!" he shouted indigenously. "I'm seventeen years old!"

"And I am one hundred and one," Dumbledore replied. "I believe that gives me enough right to spank you."

"Arrgghhh! You will live to regret this!" Tom yelled. He struggled, but Dumbledore was surprisingly strong and held him in place. His hand was quite firm and struck with the hardness a paddle would have, most likely due to magic. It hurt, but the real sting came from being demeaned by his most hated enemy. He almost wished he were being caned, as it was a more mature form of discipline than this.

"Only Muggle children are punished this way," Tom sulked. "How dare you throw my dirty blood at me like this."

Dumbledore sighed, finding it hard to believe the lad was thinking solely of bloodline at a time like this. "I am not doing it because of your blood or because it is a Muggle thing to do. I simply cannot bring myself to strike you with an object."

Tom might have argued, but really did not want any more pain than this. He was quiet for a moment, sharp tongue dulled by the humiliation of being strung over his professor's lap taking smack after smack. Having (illegally but unnoticed) struck fear in his orphanage peers, he had not been struck in a few years. Even when he had been punished, it was always a bent-over-a-chair caning, nothing so idiotic as this. 

"Out of insults, Tom?" Dumbledore inquired.

Tom's lips parted, but he said nothing. He realized that he was hanging onto Dumbledore's robe-covered leg for balance. They were close again. "....You will die for this," he said distractedly. He squirmed beneath a particularly hard whack. "Mmph." 

"Still so arrogant," smiled Dumbledore. "Well, if you won't change, at least you won't go off into real life without a smarting reminder of me."

His hand smacked down on Tom's pert young bottom once again, palm seeming to cut through the robes. He writhed, eyes suddenly alight with an odd look. "Oh, I certainly will remember it," he said softly. "My first punishment in the wizarding world, and given by my most notable professor, no less. We've both been waiting years for this, haven't we?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, hand resting on the lad's bottom. "We? Are you finally admitting to deserving punishment?"

"I have never denied it," Tom corrected him. He smiled a crooked smile. "We both know I've been a rather bad boy beneath the surface, Professor."

"Yes, you have," Dumbledore said cautiously. He could not read this new tone of Tom's, but he did not like it. "You have done things adult men would shudder at. By all rights, you belong in Azkaban instead of on my lap."

"But I am on your lap," Tom said, cheeks flushing again. He grinned widely beneath his fallen black hair, handsome face rosy and demonic. "Heh. I had never been spanked before. Somehow, I always expected you to...but you never had until now."

"Are you saying that you respect me for it?"

"Yes, I must admit that you have surprised me this year," Tom said. "You caused me that deplorable breakdown in October, and now here you are, finally being strict with me. I respect your efforts, Professor Dumbledore." 

"....Stand up."

Dumbledore removed his arm from Tom's waist. The disheveled seventeen-year-old stood, sheepishly rubbing his bottom. The odd smile lingered on his lips. "You are every bit the professor-" Before Dumbledore could stand, Tom leaned over him. "-and for the last time, I am your student." 

"Tom!"

Tom slithered his long body over the older man until their faces were an inch apart. Giving the shocked professor another evil smile, he kissed him. It was the solitary student's first kiss, and the professor's first kiss from a student. 

Although Dumbledore allowed it for longer than Tom had expected, it was brief. He was thrown aside into a desk, where he lay over it laughing. "Ha ha ha ha! What is the matter, Dumbledore? I thought you loved me."

"Not in that way!" Dumbledore roared at him. "Must you twist everything? I did not spank you for sexual reasons!"

Tom rested his face on his hand, casually slung over the school desk like a lounging serpent. "No, it was because I've been such a bad boy, haven't I?" He smiled. "Go on, scold me. I shall actually miss it after I leave."

Dumbledore was now the one caught off guard. He gaped at the young man, horrified by the innuendo. Even more horrifying was the fact that the kiss....had not seemed as wrong as it should have.

Tom stood and walked over to Dumbledore, who was still a little taller. He smiled up at the man like a demonic temptation, beautiful but malicious. Dumbledore was surveying him closely, but his face had softened.

Tom's thin hand ran down Dumbledore's long auburn beard. "Have you finally given up on me?"

Dumbledore grabbed his wrist hard. "Damn you, Tom. I will never give up on you, but I will never sleep with you, either. You are my student."

"Not anymore," Tom said pointedly. He pressed against his professor. "Come off your high horse, Dumbledore. This is what you want, isn't it? Why else have you haunted me during the seven years?"

Dumbledore slapped him and moved him away. "Because I care about you! Stop trying to twist things out of your childish fear of good! Grow up, Tom!"

Tom bowed his head, holding his cheek. Dumbledore held his face by the chin and turned it towards his own. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"The wizarding world is my last chance," Tom confessed quietly. "What if....I did not fit in the Muggle world because there is something wrong with _me_? If I don't fit here...I'll have nothing."

There were many things wrong with him, but Dumbledore did not tell him so. "You must conquer your memories instead of blocking them out," he advised. "After that, you should have no-"

Tom was crying. "I can't. I'm not strong enough."

"You have to believe in yourself, Tom. Believe you can be good." 

"I've tried, but every time...I get hurt again," Tom told him. "I can't keep being hurt! I won't have anything left! As it is, I...." He shook his head and buried it in his hand.

"Tom...." Dumbledore held the boy to his side. "Don't cry today, Tom. You'll find your way."

Tom leaned just enough upwards and tried to kiss his professor again. Dumbledore held his hand up between their lips, where Tom's thin mouth landed. Tom frowned deeply at him.

"No, Tom," Dumbledore said firmly. "I said that I loved you, not that I lusted for you. I know how scared you are, so scared that you wish to give your body away for the sake of tainting the truth to a level you can accept. However there is no tainting it. There is no betrayal or blackness in my feelings towards you. I do not want to use you or hurt you. I have no ulterior motives. I care about you, and I want what is best for you."

"Stop saying that!" Tom yelled. "Stop saying it! Stop! Stop lying!"

"I am not lying!" Dumbledore exclaimed. He took Tom by the shoulders and held him in front of him. "Tom, believe me. Trust me, Tom."

Tom frowned in confusion. He saw his entire student life reflected in Dumbledore's tired eyes. He remembered Hagrid, his only friend whom he had thrown away so easily and completely. He remembered the warm glow of safety he always felt on his first day back in school. He remembered every lecture, every scolding Dumbledore had given him. He remembered Headmaster Dippet, being appointed Prefect, being named Head Boy. For the first time, he realized the good in his life.

Could he give up his hatred? What would he do? Obtain a prestigious job in the Ministry, earn respect....money....and no one would ever be able to hurt him again. 

But they _had_ hurt him. They had laughed and they had sneered and they had insulted him. They would never see his success, as it would have to be hidden in the wizarding world. They would never feel the pain they had inflicted on him. They would have gotten away with destroying his soul, caging him into his lonely life, and laughing as they did so.

"All I ever wanted as a child was love," Tom said softly. He walked from Dumbledore and sat atop a desk, staring at his hands. "I wanted someone to hold me, someone to tell me what to do, someone to tell me the Muggles were wrong for punishing me and that I didn't deserve it at all. I wanted to be loved and held....punished for the sake of discipline as opposed to sadism....guided...."

"I have given you all that, and you've thrown it in my face," Dumbledore pointed out. "I normally let students go after they graduate, but I will help you all I can in the wizarding world. I will vouch for your character should you find a job. I will answer your questions. I will guide you, Tom, and you **will** heal in time."

"My wounds cannot heal," Tom said miserably. "I don't believe in love, and I cannot trust anyone."

"You will learn to."

Tom was hugging himself. "No, no I will not learn to," he said softly. "I cannot. Only...only revenge eases the pain. When I'm not hurting anyone else, I want to hurt myself, destroy myself. If I can't focus my hate on them, then it comes back to me. It _always_ comes back to me. I have to be strong beyond human strength, so no one will ever hurt me..." His eyes were faraway and began to glaze with a crazy shimmer. "If I cut myself from everything but my power, I will get to that point. I will not be human anymore, and no one will hurt me ever. I will be feared and respected instead of laughed at and stepped on. I will win."

"You will lose, Tom," Dumbledore corrected him gravely. "You will lose your soul."

"Good, it is too weak to let live," Tom replied. He wiped his eyes. "I want to destroy everything. This world, the Muggles, the purebloods....even myself...." He turned his face to the window, face illuminated by the light. "In this world the only ultimate is power, and the ultimate power is that over life and death." 

"No it is not."

"Yes it is," Tom said stubbornly. "And I want that power. I....have tasted it....and it is the most satisfying thing in the world. They cheapened my life, so why should I not cheapen theirs? No one ever respected me, so why should I respect anyone? Why shouldn't they pay?" His voice raised. "What good is power if one cannot use it? Certainly I can use it for money and prestige, but those things are not enough to make up for all I have lost! Nothing is!" 

"You will end up with nothing!" Dumbledore tried desperately to get through to him. "Even if you accomplish all your goals, Tom, what will become of _you_? As long as you hate Muggles, you will always hate a part of yourself!"

"I will always hate a part of myself _no matter what_." Tom stepped down from the desk and stumbled, clinging to another. "Nghhh...."

"Tom!"

Dumbledore rushed to his side, but Tom jerked away from him. "No. No more! Do not touch me! Do not speak another word to me!" He held his head, which had begun to ache. "Please....I can take no more of this. Leave me alone!"

"Tom..." Dumbledore touched his shoulder, only to have Tom stumble away. "This is my last chance to save you, and your last chance to remain human. Do not choose to ruin your life, Tom. Do not be that stupid to let everyone who has hurt you win!"

"They have already won....but their victory will mean nothing when they are dead," Tom said. He looked up at Dumbledore, eyes hardened and emotionless. "One day....none of this will mean anything at all."

It was the end. They both felt it. Tom felt victorious. Dumbledore felt his heart breaking. They both shared a feeling of helplessness amidst some greater force pushing them both along their separate paths. What was inevitable was inevitable, and the inevitable would be what it was.

Dumbledore came over to Tom one last time. With a heavy look on his face, he leaned down and gently kissed the boy's forehead. Tom's entire body shuddered as an emotional pain like that he had never felt filled his body. Dumbledore looked into his eyes and said in a whisper, "Tom, I _did_ love you." 

"Mmmphh...." Tom buckled and almost fell, but his professor caught him. Tears were running down his face again, and he felt his heart tearing into a million pieces. He wondered if the emotions of magical people were stronger than those of Muggles. If they were, he was surely dying right now. It hurt so much that he was defenseless again....even with his Occlumency....

"You will become just like your father if you continue on with your prejudice," Dumbledore told the weak child in his arms. "Just as he destroyed your mother and you with his ignorance, you will destroy many innocent children and people with yours. You will truly be his son then."

Tom shook his head, delirious with madness. "No. No, never. I am not Tom Riddle. I am not a Muggle! I am better than that! I am! I am better! I...." He blinked over tears. "He had no reason.....he threw us away...he......he had....no reason...."

"Prejudice is never justified, and neither is murder."

Tom turned his face. "I don't care. I don't care about anything. I only....want to....seek chaos.....and see pain.....and....have power..." 

"Love is power, Tom."

"No. It doesn't exist. It cannot." Tom shook his head. "Get away from me.....get away from me! Don't touch me! You don't love me! No one does! _I don't deserve it_!"

"Of course you do. Tom..."

Tom broke out of his arms, but collapsed on the floor. "I hate you!" he screamed through his blur of emotions. "I hate you! I hate you!"

"No, you do not hate me."

"Ohhh..." Tom sat down, leaning against a chair's legs. His head and heart felt ready to explode, although there was no physical pain. "I hate you. I hate everyone. I hate each world and each person in them. But I especially HATE YOU!"

"All right, hate me," Dumbledore said. "Go on and hate me all you like. I will never hate you."

"Don't say that! You must hate me by now! I killed that stupid girl in the bathroom! I ruined Hagrid's life! I killed my father! I killed his family! HATE ME!"

"You cannot tell me how to feel, Tom," Dumbledore said in amusement. "I cannot bring myself to hate you."

Tom held his head and slid from the support of the chair legs. He fell on his side on the floor, and curled into a fetal position. "Everyone hates me! You're no different!" he screamed, hysterical again. "YOU MUST!"

Dumbledore stared at the boy as he writhed and shrieked. It was disturbing to see him react so severely to love; this was a reaction most people had to Dementors. He could not accept love. He wanted it deep down, but he would not allow himself to believe in it. He felt it would ruin him, hurt him, and that he did not deserve it. He only understood pain because that was the only thing he had been taught in early childhood. Giving pain, receiving pain....those were the only things that satisfied him. His soul was truly...destroyed. His mind was brilliant, so very brilliant....but his soul was handicapped. A dangerous combination, but Dumbledore could not fight it.

_But I will fight it,_ the professor thought. _No matter what, I will fight it until the day either of us dies. Poor child..._

He stooped and picked Tom up in his arms. He sat the boy on a desk and left the room. Tom sat staring into nothing, eyes dead but swimming with tears. True to his Occlumency training, he struggled to let his mind go blank. The unnerving tugging sensation in his heart continued, but he let his thoughts slip away as much as he could. Still, Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind. He wished someone were there to hit him, hurt him for being so damned weak. He wondered if he could ever achieve his goal of being inhuman....

Dumbledore returned with a bottle of potion. He removed the cork, surveying Tom closely. Tom sat lifelessly, unable to speak. For a moment, he wondered if Dumbledore had been sadistic enough to bring him Love Potion, which would most likely kill him completely.

"This will ease your mind," Dumbledore said gently. "I suggest you take a small nap before the graduation ceremony, let yourself calm down. Here."

He brought the bottle to Tom's lips. Tom turned his face.

"You do not trust me, do you?" Dumbledore said with a small smile. He turned Tom's face back towards his own. "Smell it. You're bright enough to know your potions."

It was indeed a tranquilizing potion. Tom's lips parted, and Dumbledore carefully tilted the bottle. The smooth liquid had an airy flavor, somewhat a blend of cool milk and delicate sugar. The emotional pain was dulled, his body relaxed.

"Better?" Dumbledore brushed Tom's hair out of his face with his hand. "I'm sorry I ruined part of your graduation day, but I felt so desperate and trapped. not let you go without some effort to turn your heart, or I would never live with myself. I had to try as hard as I could to get through to you."

Tom only glared at him.

"Perhaps my words will sink in eventually, or perhaps not," Dumbledore exhaled. "I have tried my best."

Tom blinked, beginning to sway slightly. The room blurred before him. Dumbledore helped him down from the desk and steadied him on his feet. Once Tom was balanced, he began helped him out of the classroom.

Tom's head was spinning too fast for him to fight away Dumbledore. He was led to the otherwise empty infirmary, where a few passers-by asked what was wrong with him. Dumbledore replied that the stress of graduation had given him a headache and he needed rest. He lay Tom on a bed, and they were soon alone.

Dumbledore took Tom's thin hand into his own. His hand was roughened by time and very strong. He rubbed Tom's smooth skin with his fingers, staring at his student. Tom gazed up at him in perplexion and fear. Fresh tears fell from his dazed eyes as his mind began to slip away.

"I will always love you, Tom."

Tom felt a shudder run through his body, and then all went dark. He dreamt of nothing, and woke feeling empty and numb. He saw Dumbledore again at the ceremony, but from a distance. They never spoke inside Hogwarts again. Tom felt victorious, but it was a cold and unfulfilling victory. He would never regret it...but he would never be proud of it. From that day forward, Dumbledore became an obscure object in his memory, and the only one he would ever fear.

**_Chapter One: His Last Lessons_ End**


	3. Chapter Two

_The Only One He Ever Feared_

**Author's Notes:** sniff God, that last chapter was so sad! Maybe not crushingly sad, but sad nonetheless. Ah, now can you understand the Dark Lord a little better? Maybe not, and maybe I'm simply sick to see any good in him, but...I cannot believe he was born evil. I refuse to. I also understand him very well. I know the point of the books is not to understand Voldemort and readers should hate him, but I _am_ an adult. Meaning that once you are past a certain age, the idealistic and mainstream and good can seem....well, boring and idealistic. Even Rowling knows that, which is why even the 'good guys' have their issues and a little darkness in their souls. Hell, Harry Potter has a _lot_ of darkness in his soul by Book Five! I see Harry and Tom like a Yin and Yang. I admire Harry's light and courage and strength, but I understand more Tom's bitterness and hatred. Harry is good for those happy ending stories, and Tom is great for tragedy. And no, I do not always write tragedies! Remember how happy-sappy the ending to my 'Adversities' saga was? ;-)

**Chapter Two: Innocence Ruined**

**The Viper's Bite; 3 Years After Tom Riddle's Graduation**

The heavy-aired pub off of Knockturn alley was full that night. Drunken wizards and witches swayed and laughed amidst flowing hard liquor and vicious conversations. In one corner, a couple of older wizards were near dueling, while another pair traded illegal spell books in another. A drunken wizard fell onto the table of a hard-faced young man, only to be blasted to the other side of the room. The young wizard coolly slid his wand back inside his robe and sat back against the shoulder of an older, platinum-blond man with shining silver eyes. The blond man laughed and pulled the younger man closer. 

"Very good, lad," he praised the black-haired youth. "I taught you that one didn't I, Tom?"

Tom smiled weakly. "Yes, yes. I still wish there were Muggles to practice on. Why can't we go find some and practice on them?" 

"Patience, my boy, patience," the blond replied smoothly. He refilled the Tom's glass with a slippery dark green substance. "The Ministry has been cracking down on Muggle torture recently, and I would never bring a novice along with me until they've calmed down."

"I am not a novice," Tom said irritably. "I know dozens more spells than you do, Malfoy."

Malfoy only tipped Tom's glass to his lips, and the boy drank from it. "Yes, and you only know them because you've been studying in _my_ personal library," he said cuttingly. "Not to mention the fact that I've sneaked you into the Forbidden section of the _real_ library where I work on countless occasions."

Tom grinned behind his emptied glass. "You want another favor, do you?"

Malfoy took his glass and set it back on the table. He smiled, holding Tom's face by the chin. "That you have to even ask makes it quite clear you have not been properly trained yet."

"Hm hm. Perhaps another lesson?"

Malfoy kissed Tom swiftly but deeply. His tongue was cold and tasted of strong drink, invading the youth's mouth in a slippery, hungry manner. Tom felt the man tasting him, and it annoyed him deep down despite the physical pleasure. Still, he allowed it and kissed the man back.

They had met earlier in the year in the library where Malfoy was in charge of running. Tom took every chance he had to read books there, and his handsome face had caught Malfoy's eye. One night, Tom had broken into the Forbidden section of the library and Malfoy had caught him. Being a graduate of the Slytherin house himself, Malfoy admired the boy's ingenuity and ambition. After taking great pleasure in giving Tom a thorough punishment, he had offered to keep the entire affair secret in exchange for Tom's body. Tom, highly impressed by Malfoy's old bloodline and great power, had readily agreed.

Malfoy's sharp good looks and impressive background had been wearing thin on Tom as of late; he was tired of being used, even if it was by a gorgeous pureblood heir. However he had no choice, as he was still learning many great things from the ancient texts, and so he went on being used by Malfoy.

"Another lesson?" Malfoy echoed after the lengthy kiss. "Have you not taken enough pain?" He touched Tom's shoulder and the youth flinched. "The injuries from last night cannot have healed so soon."

"No, they have not," Tom agreed. He smiled again and straddled Malfoy's lap. "Then why don't you join me in licking my wounds?" 

Malfoy smiled at his pet genius. "All right." He threw some coins on the table and stood, Tom's legs wrapped around his waist. "My wife is back from holiday, so we'll use your flat."

Tom buried his face in the man's long hair, kissing his neck. Although he was tired of being used, it was not hard to be aroused by Malfoy; the strong, beautiful man was everything Tom wished he were, and having sex with him was as close to fitting into the pureblood world as Tom would ever come. Besides, the tall, fair man was the perfect master to serve for a Mudblood like Tom, _and_ their relationship was giving him access to greater things. The indignity of it would be worth it in the end, and the pleasure was enough to get by on during the present.

Outside the swarthy pub, Malfoy put Tom on the ground. He took the lad by the neck and led him into the night, towards their carriage. It would have been easy for them to both Dissaparate, but a carriage ride was much sexier.

Malfoy's hand traveled down Tom's neck to his back, and he ended up squeezing his bottom. Tom's face went red, but he smiled drunkenly and only leaned into Malfoy's robes.

Just before reaching the carriage, the drunk Malfoy knocked into someone. "Watch it!" he hissed venomously.

"Excuse--Tom?" 

Tom cringed at the voice, afraid to look up. Malfoy prodded him and he turned his eyes. His cynical young face twisted into an amused sneer, black hair hanging around him limply. "Dumbledore. What an unexpected surprise."

Dumbledore stared at him, recognizing him only vaguely. "I did not expect to run into you here, Tom." He turned his eyes to Malfoy. "Nor your _pureblood_ friend. Might I speak with you alone?"

Tom's eyes widened in horror.

"No, you may not," Malfoy answered for him. "He is with me, and we are busy at the moment. Come, Tom."

But Tom knew Dumbledore too well to take any chances. He stood still and let Malfoy step away from him, eyes not leaving his old professor. "In a moment."

Malfoy lifted his head. "No," he firmly, "we are going now." 

"No." Tom looked at him. "Please, a moment?" 

Malfoy was furious. His chest swelled and his eyes narrowed into glistening slits. "_Fine_. I shall wait in the carriage." And he swooped off.

"How dare you," Tom seethed once they were alone. "Interrupt my evening! You would have told him that I'm half-blood, wouldn't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Dumbledore said gently. "I would never use your heritage against you."

"What do you want with me?" Tom inquired coldly.

"I truly did run into the two of you by accident," Dumbledore assured him, "but seeing you...." He shook his head. "My God, look at you! Your eyes are empty, your face is hard, and your body...." He moved his hand and Tom's robe slipped down, revealing a marked shoulder and upper back. "Your body is defiled in more ways than I dare envision."

"My body is none of your concern." Tom pulled his robe back up. "I am learning great things, Dumbledore. My body, defiled as it is, is much stronger. I'm learning to take more and more pain every month! I have access to Malfoy's private library, even his equipment if I should ask! Do not dare interfere in this."

"I cannot interfere in your life, sadly," Dumbledore said. "All I can do is remind you that you're too good for this, and hope you believe that." 

"Oh, I know I am too good for this," Tom said casually. "I do not care, that's all. I will do anything it takes to achieve my goal." He shrugged. "Even if it destroys me. Now if you'll excuse me...."

"Your 'master' is waiting?"

Tom shot him a look, but walked away without another word. Dumbledore watched as he approached Malfoy and spoke to him. He watched as Malfoy gave him a ringing slap across the face. He watched as Tom was dragged into the carriage and until the carriage was gone from sight. Again, he felt his heart aching.

"You **do not** speak without my permission!" 

_Crack_!

Tom jumped as a fiery hot whip of red light lashed across his legs. "Aghh....yes sir..."

Malfoy pointed his wand at his face. "Do not make me use the Cruciatus Curse on you. I have been saving it for either the time you are ready or a great disobedience. The choice is yours, Riddle."

Tom shook his head. "Not yet. Not yet, please."

"Then _obey_ me!"

Malfoy flicked his wand and the cruel whip of light singed Tom's back. He gave a wounded cry and fell to the carriage floor. He sat on hand and knee, fighting back tears of pain. Malfoy kicked at him, and he buried his face in the hem of the man's robes. "I'm sorry, Master!" he cried. "Forgive me."

"Why did you feel you had to speak with him?" Malfoy asked. Upon not receiving an answer, he waved his wand and the light struck Tom's bottom. "Speak!"

"Aaoowww! Agh...." Tom squeezed his eyes shut. "I....I was afraid.." 

Malfoy raised his wand. "You fear him more than you fear me?"

"NO!" Tom exclaimed, sitting up painfully. "He was my professor! He knows me since I was a child, and he knows everything about me! He knows how to hurt me with more than pain."

Malfoy thought of striking him again, but the last sentence caught his interest. He lowered the wand. "With more than pain?"

"Yes," Tom breathed, clutching his shoulder. "He pretends to love me, knowing that is my one weakness. He tears and tears away at me until I break down into a pathetic, sniveling mess. I would like to think that over the past three years since I saw him last, I have outgrown that vulnerability, but I cannot afford to take any chances." 

Malfoy was running a finger across his bottom lip. "Hm....how interesting. You yelp and cry at times when I hit you, but those are natural and hard to control reactions. I never thought you had a specific weakness."

Tom bowed his head. "Now you know don't you? Please do not exploit it." He instantly realized the uselessness of the request and laughed. "Ha ha ha.....never mind. If you ever said you loved me, I would scarcely even believe it!" He picked himself up from the floor and climbed onto Malfoy's lap. "You are so wonderfully cold..."

Tom kissed him appreciatively. There were no pretences in their relationship, none at all. Malfoy used the lad's body for sick pleasure, and Tom used Malfoy's resources and coldness to grow in intelligence and strength. Neither was chained by that silly idea of love, and neither was weakened by the relationship. Tom was losing his dignity, but that was much better than losing his cold heart. Even the bruises felt good after being reminded of the emotional pain Dumbledore had put him through.

"You would prefer beatings and mindless sex to 'true love' and caring?" Malfoy asked, intrigued by this new window into Tom's mind. "You would rather be a slave than someone's beloved?"

"Yes," Tom replied honestly. "Pain is tangible, bruises layer on bruises and eventually you become strong enough to take great measures of it. It is the ultimate summation of power, and I love being engulfed in it, whether I am causing it or taking it." 

"How very cute." Malfoy pulled Tom's robe off, baring the youth's marked body. "You must hate yourself somewhat if you are willing to take so much pain. Most men, like myself, would seek power by _avoiding_ it."

"I am not like most men," Tom pointed out. "I lust for pain, and you will give it to me and teach me how to give it to others. I can't do anything alone, I'm too young and smart to take risks. You are my perfect accomplice."

"Determined young thing." Malfoy let his hands roam Tom's body, excited by the feel of the new hot marks. "Rape my mind, Tom, and take all the knowledge you want from me. So long as you give me your body to play with, I won't mind...."

Tom kissed him passionately. "Mmm.....thank you, master."

Malfoy threw him down on the black velvet seats of the carriage and touched his face. Tom lay still, his desire for Malfoy refreshed and stronger than ever before. They kissed fiercely, and he wrapped his long pale arms around the man. The sting of his punishment dulled any silly emotions he might have felt as their bodies connected, and Malfoy's hands tightly holding his wrists together harshly helped convey the message of Tom's position as a mere slave. It was pain and pleasure, nothing more and nothing less. 

The two became a tangle of fair skin in the moonlight and blackness of the carriage. Even when they reached Tom's apartment building, Malfoy merely wrapped a cloak around their writhing figures and kissed and groped Tom all the way to his room. Inside, Tom was flung to the floor and bound up with magical ropes of fine black leather. More bruises from the ropes. He laughed insanely until he had to scream, kissed Malfoy until he was rolled onto his stomach and was faced with the floor.

Deep down, he wondered why he enjoyed it so much. Many would be horrified at the mere mention of such 'mistreatment', but he adored it. Maybe there was something wrong with him....

Oh, but if there was, he did not care! Why fight himself? This was where he belonged, in chaotic pain and a pureblood's arms. Until he was powerful enough to be the master, he _wanted_ to be the slave. He wanted pain, he had missed it! He was a dirty little Mudblood, and here was retribution to ease his self-hatred.

Malfoy entered his body in fast, brutal motions. Tom's nails were digging into his palms, unable to grab anything else. He felt ready to explode from the ropes binding him, but he could not. He writhed like a snake, moaning only very softly. Malfoy wanted him to be louder, and he let him know this with a firm tap on the thigh. Tom laughed.

"You really do like that don't you?" Malfoy raised Tom's body upwards with his wand. "You're so much fun, boy."

Tom smiled. "As are you, master."

Malfoy pushed into him again, and Tom shrieked and laughed all the more. This was the madness he needed. This was where he belonged for now.

"Mmm....that is enough, Tom."

Tom raised his head, licking his lips with a demon smile on them. He crawled up Malfoy's body to his chest and kissed his neck. Malfoy sleepily patted his head and enjoyed the lad's flitting tongue on his skin for a few moments. But their antics had dragged on for hours, and he was exhausted. As Tom gave him a greedy kiss, Malfoy smacked his upturned little arse. "That is enough, Tom."

Tom sighed and rested his head on Malfoy's chest. This was the part he hated the most: lying beside Malfoy, warm and vulnerable to pleasant thoughts and hopes. He listened to the man's heartbeat and breathing, and shut his eyes. Physical pleasure...free of emotion....he had to hang onto this feeling. 

Malfoy himself was beginning to fall prey to uncharacteristically fuzzy feelings. Now that he knew Tom a little better, he was beginning to see him as more than a plaything. The pet had a soul, and Malfoy knew it was a deep one. Whereas before he had seen Tom as entertainment, now he was beginning to....like him. 

Still, he knew better than to tell Tom this. He kissed the top of the lad's head, silky black hair smooth on his lips. Tom laughed softly and arched his back.

"I could go all night," Tom said, smiling as Malfoy stroked his long back. "I'm too restless to sleep." He kissed Malfoy. "Let's go it again, Malfoy, please?"

"No, Tom, I have to sleep," Malfoy laughed. "Energetic little thing....don't make me blast you."

"Hm....yes sir." Tom lay still again, but his mind was working away senselessly. He contented himself by taking Malfoy's hand in his own and licking and kissing his fingers. Malfoy just chuckled softly and allowed it.

"In all my years, I have never enjoyed so much anyone's company," he said thoughtfully. "Not even my beautiful wife....."

"Anything to please you," Tom said, sounding bored. "Tomorrow, might we attempt the ritual I've been studying?"

"No." Malfoy yawned widely. "Your body is all marked up as it is, it wouldn't be strong enough to survive such a ritual. Do you never tire of pain, Riddle?"

"Pain leads to strength, and strength is power," Tom said cheerfully. "One day all this, everything in my life, will be worthwhile."

"Of course, Tom, of course." Malfoy shut his eyes, resting his hand on Tom's thigh. "Shhh. Quiet now, Riddle. I'm tired."

Tom nodded and lay against Malfoy's chest again. He thought of Dumbledore and smiled to himself. The old fool knew nothing about what Tom needed. His stupid face had been so sad earlier....speaking with him had been worth the punishment. Perhaps one day....he could hurt Dumbledore even more.

As he drifted off to sleep, a tiny part of him was crying out against his lifestyle. Somewhere in his icy heart he knew how dark his life was, how he had changed since graduation. Hell, he had been changing for the worse since he was eleven years old. But it felt good, it felt satisfying....why fight it? For a greater good? He wanted....nothing but his life the way it was; he could not even see doing anything else. It still hurt somewhat, but.....he would overcome the pain eventually. He had to conquer his heart or die trying.

**_Chapter Two: Innocence Ruined_ End**


	4. Chapter Three

_The Only One He Ever Feared_

**Author's Notes:** No, the Malfoy in this story is NOT Lucius Malfoy. Lucius wasn't even born yet! This is most likely his father or grandfather. Why doesn't he have a first name? Er....haven't thought of one ;

**Chapter Three: Rebirth**

The relationship did indeed strengthen young Tom Riddle. The information he learned in the ancient texts was invaluable. His body slowly became accustomed to taking large amounts of magic-induced pain. Malfoy supervised him as he battled strong toxic potions in an effort to overcome them. Tom met with more purebloods through Malfoy, and soon had a fairly sized network of contacts and acquaintances. Most importantly, however, his heart grew more blocked off from emotion by the day.

A year passed, and then two....soon five years had gone by. At twenty-five years old, Tom was the coldest, brightest, most handsome boy in the wizarding world of the time. He worked a steady job by day and trained himself with Malfoy's help by night. The double-life was grueling, but Tom's ambition drove him through it.

What Tom did not know was that his world was balanced on a very thin thread, and it was starting to break. Throughout their five-year love affair, Malfoy had learned much about the boy. The more he learned, the closer he came to falling in love with him. Recently, he had been hitting him much less, and kissing him more at night. He grew detached from his wife and young son, spending almost every night with Tom Riddle. The lad was like a slow-acting poison that was traveling his blood and infecting every part of his body. He was not sure anymore whether he could avoid telling Tom the truth or not. 

Tonight they were deep in the Forbidden section of the library. Tom was sitting on the floor, bent over a book with his raven hair falling around his face, reading about rituals. His lips moved as he silently went over a chant, eyes shifting from side to side rapidly. Malfoy was playing with his hair, which was longer now, and sitting at his side.

"You don't pay all that much attention to me lately," he said in his bored tone. "You've been reading this book as if it's possessed you."

"....Don't be silly," Tom said at length, not tearing his eyes from the pages. "I let you have me every night."

"Even then there is a sort of distance about you," Malfoy said. "Are you tired of me, Tom?"

Tom smirked, although he refused to look at Malfoy. "Somewhat. Can you blame me? Even you must be tired of me by now."

"Actually, I still cannot have enough of you." Malfoy nosed into Tom's hair and found his neck. "What is the matter, Tom? Is it the discipline?"

"No, I don't mind it," Tom said distractedly. He paused for a long moment, pouring over the last paragraph. ".....Have I really been ignoring you?"

Malfoy turned Tom's face towards his own. "Yes. You have."

Tom drew an impatient breath. "Well....tell you what, I'll bend over right now if you'll promise to perform this ritual with me tomorrow."

Malfoy took the book from his hands and looked through it. "Tom, this is a very dangerous ritual," he observed. "The _Ritual of Sacraments_....long thought to be the first step in a life devoted purely to evil...." He looked up at Tom. "Riddle, this is very complex and demanding, no one under fifty years old has ever even attempted it. You may very well die."

Tom shrugged. "I've risked my life before. Besides, I believe I can handle it."

Malfoy shut the book. "No."

"No!" Tom exclaimed. "Why not? You don't think I'm strong enough?" 

Malfoy stood and put the book back in its place. "I am not willing to take that chance. You shouldn't play with your life so much, Riddle."

Tom stared up at him. Although his face was expressionless, he was deeply unnerved by Malfoy's sudden change in attitude. "It never bothered you before."

"It bothers me now!" Malfoy snapped. He knelt before Tom and touched his face. "I'm not through....playing with you."

"That never stopped you," Tom argued. "When did you grow yourself a conscience? Last Christmas?" With an annoyed sound, Tom stood, brushing off his robes. Malfoy also stood, and Tom watched him carefully, expecting a good slap on the face for his cheek.

Malfoy did not strike him, however; he placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, which was nearly level with his own. "You're very young. You have time to take those risks later on. It would be foolish to throw your life away now."

Tom backed away from him. "You sound like Dumbledore...." He looked all around. "Dumbledore! Are you using the _Impedius_ Curse?"

Malfoy laughed. "Dumbledore is not here, Riddle," he said. "Why so frightened? I never mentioned 'love' or anything of the sort. I simply do not want you to die."

"Why? Because you enjoy my body too much?" Tom guessed anxiously. "You're not through having your fun with me?"

"That's right." 

Tom lifted his chin. "Why not simply find another person to have an affair with?"

"Because....I like the way you shriek my name," Malfoy said with a smile. He leaned his head down and kissed Tom. "Mmm....and no one else would allow my sadism."

"Sadism?" Tom laughed. "You hardly hit me anymore!"

Malfoy did not comment on this; he kissed Tom again for a long moment. Then, he swooped the youth up into his arms. "Let's get out of here."

Tom smiled, although his mind was troubled. He stared intently at Malfoy, trying to figure out what was different about him. Finally, he asked, "You _do not_ love me...do you?"

"I love your body," Malfoy replied, kissing him more.

Tom frowned deeply as their lips locked together. His question had not been answered.

Tom drew further into himself over the following week. He barely touched Malfoy at all, and tuned his face whenever the man tried to kiss him. There was an ominous feeling to their relationship now, and Tom was preparing for its inevitable end. Malfoy was getting too attached, he was afraid, and that would not do at all.

The second week, Tom vanished. As Malfoy went out of his mind searching for him, he had gathered a few purebloods that liked him enough to aid him in the _Ritual of Sacraments_. The ritual's purpose was to seal the heart from weakness, and it involved both murder and self mutilation. Of all the rituals he had undergone so far, this was by far the most taxing. Finding a Muggle or two to sacrifice was not much problem, but Tom was uncertain whether his body could take the deep cuts and heavily powerful magic. Still, it was worth the risk. 

The ritual took one night, and it was a hellish night. It may have been made more pleasant by the Muggle murders, but Tom was too anxious to even enjoy those very much. The time came when he took his place at the center of the circle his acquaintances had formed. The rest was a painful blur. All Tom would remember was his own screaming and blood, being almost certain he would die several times.

But he did not die. After all was said and done, he had gained immense respect from the pureblood gang around him. They applauded as he hobbled out of the circle, blood streaming from mouth and forehead and chest, robes shredded, head ringing in pain.

Then, in the midst of the wicked celebration, a familiar voice rang out into the night, "TOM!"

Just as Tom felt he could walk no more, Malfoy came rushing through the crowd and took him in his arms. Tom lay in the strong embrace gratefully, newly scarlet-colored eyes blank and streaming bloody tears. Malfoy kissed the top of his head and put his own cloak around Tom's shoulders.

"I told you not to perform this ritual!" he screamed at his lover. "I told you! How dare you disobey me!"

Tom caught the deep concern in his voice and frowned. He wanted to speak, but could not. One of the well-known Black family members approached.

"Now Malfoy, stop being so disagreeable!" she said in a high, cold voice. "The lad was brilliant! There hasn't been such a wizard since Salazar himself! He will bring new respect to us all one day! He has promised us! Ah ha ha ha!"

Malfoy pushed her away. "This brilliant young wizard belongs to me," he declared, "and no one else! Tom, you're coming with me right now!"

"Tom?" Ms. Black inquired. "He is not Tom. He is Voldemort."

Malfoy's silver eyes widened, looking like two translucent moons trapped in his face. Tom smiled a little at his disgustingly worried expression before losing consciousness. As he felt his spirit slipping into the dream realm, he heard Malfoy's desperate, "Tom? TOM!"

Tom awoke in his own bed, completely undressed beneath the sheets. He blinked his red eyes open and stared at the ceiling. Malfoy was stirring something in a cauldron near the window. Tom licked his very dry lips and spoke, "Malfoy?"

Malfoy did not look at him, he merely went on stirring. "So, my pet lives," he said cynically. "After three days, Tom Riddle awakens and is finally ready to speak with me again. Or shall I call you 'Voldemort' now?"

"I needed an alias," rasped Tom. "My father's disgusting name never sounded very right on the lips of-" He cut himself off quickly. Somehow he had forgotten that Malfoy was unaware of his half-blood roots. Annoyed, he went on with, "It means 'flight of death' in French, and it's a mix of my name's letters."

"How fancy," Malfoy said irritably. "To me you will forever be Tom Riddle, my pet."

Tom smiled. "You must realize that I cannot be your 'pet' forever, Malfoy. One day I will be a very powerful leader, and that day will never come if you go on treating me like a little love slave. Did you see the look on their faces last night?" His eyes gleamed proudly. "They were _in awe_ of me!" 

Malfoy slammed down the mixing spoon. He poured the dark green potion into a jar and walked over to Tom on the bed. "This is for you, Tom."

Tom smirked. "Is that one of your lethal concoctions?" He sniffed the air. "Ha ha, no....that is for the pain, isn't it?"

Malfoy nodded, sitting on the bed near Tom. He brushed Tom's black hair back from his face, and for the first time got a clear look at the youth's blood-colored eyes. He was different in so many ways now. Surely he had spoken often about becoming inhuman, but Malfoy had never believed him much. Now it was evident that he knew exactly what he was doing and his dreams were not as far from reach as Malfoy had thought.

"Turn over," Malfoy ordered. He pulled the lad over onto his stomach and drew away the sheets. "If you weren't so battered already I would lash you, so do not take this as a sign of forgiveness or think I am not angry with you."

"I wouldn't dream of it, _Master_."

Malfoy gave him a look, then a light swat, to which Tom laughed. He then began to massage the warm healing potion into Tom's sliced and bruised body. The potion would help heal the physically obvious wounds as well as ease the magical pain still burning beneath the surface.

"Mmmm....that is nice, Malfoy," Tom purred. "Why have you been acting so...._silly_...lately?"

"Silly! I have not been acting silly," Malfoy said angrily. "I've been concerned, that is all. I thought the ritual would kill you. Obviously I underestimated you. The only matter remaining is my deciding your punishment for disobeying me."

"Should be rather fun," Tom said. "One last good beating before I cut you loose once and for all."

Malfoy froze. "Cut me loose?"

"I am very sorry, Malfoy, but I cannot remain your pet any longer," Tom informed him. "Now that my power is growing, I cannot afford to have any 'special' weaknesses. Sex is not a weakness, but sex with someone as, oh...._strong_ and _dominating_ as you is."

"Is that so?" 

"That is so."

"Damn it, Riddle!" Malfoy threw the potion jar at Tom. It missed and shattered on the headboard. Tom looked back at him in surprise, but did not flinch. Malfoy grabbed him by the arm and sat him up. "How dare you use me! When I found you, you were nothing! Brilliant, but without a means to power! You would not be 'Voldemort' or anything else without me, you ungrateful little brat!"

"Ngghhh...." Tom winced, pain inflamed once again. "Malfoy, let go of me." 

"NO!" Malfoy roared, shaking him. "You are _mine_! You do not give _me_ orders!"

"Agghh!" Tom cried out, body overtaken with pain. "Unhand me!" 

"No!" Malfoy went on shaking him until Tom crumbled. Deciding he'd rattled the boy enough, he embraced him. "Tom....Tom, you....I don't want to give you up. I love you." 

Tom gave a huge cry and burst into loud sobs. "NOOOOO!!!" he wailed. "No, don't say that! Not you! I thought you were better than that! I thought you were strong! Damn! Is no one stronger than I am? No one more ambitious?"

Malfoy stroked his back. "I am strong, Tom, but I have fallen in love with you. There is nothing wrong with that."

"Yes there is!" howled Tom. "Don't you see that love does not exist? Don't you realize it is a fool's illusion?" He pushed Malfoy away. "How thick are you? You should be ashamed to be married to a woman you care nothing for, raising that brat Lucius of yours from a distance, and still naive enough to believe in love!"

Malfoy slapped him, but it had little effect.

"See? Didn't that feel good?" Tom asked. "Doesn't it feel good to hit me? Hit me more, Malfoy! Forget deluding yourself with fairy tales and take pleasure in tangible sensations! Pain, sex, _power_, those are the only things I know, and I thought you were the same!"

"I am the same!" Malfoy yelled.

"No you're not," Tom scoffed. "You're not. You only think you are." He shook his head, touching his forehead. "It is so frustrating to be on such a high level at times. I always thought I would have cohorts that were equal to me, but I suppose I....will have to admit my own power and resign myself to being...the best."

"The best?"

Tom blinked at him. "Do you have a hearing affliction? Someone hit you with a deafening charm?"

"No, I simply cannot believe what I am hearing," Malfoy said. "The ritual worked, you different."

Tom laughed his high-pitched laugh. Malfoy glared at him. "_What_ are you laughing at?"

"I am not different!" Tom cackled. "I have always been this person; you simply never saw this side of me before. I hid behind a quiet, obedient kitten's front for as long as I could, but now I've come too far to go on with it. I need to start becoming my own master, someone who is invulnerable and able to rule over others. The ritual was the perfect way to start my life as Voldemort. Please, do not take it too personally, Malfoy. I simply cannot be your puppet anymore." 

"You're only doing all this because I said I loved you," Malfoy said knowingly. "You truly are that afraid of it...." 

Tom only smiled. "I do not fear it any longer, Malfoy. I do not believe in it, and the thought of it no longer confuses me. Everything is so clear now...."

Malfoy shook his head. "You've killed your heart."

"Aha ha ha ha!" Tom laughed triumphantly. "Yes! Yes, I have! Aha ha ha ha! No one will ever hurt me again!"

Malfoy pulled him close and kissed him. Tom kissed him back, tongue slithering intrusively. There was nothing, nothing but the physical. Malfoy pulled out and sighed. "Tom....I love you."

Tom sniffed. "Hmph. No you do not love me. You've only deluded yourself into thinking you do. Trust me, I am doing you a favor by leaving you."

Malfoy shifted to look at him, grey eyes icy cold. "Leaving me are you? Yes, you do seem quite serious. Well then." He removed his wand from his robes. "I told you five years ago that I was saving this for a special occasion, and this is it." He pointed at Tom. "I will seer your pitiful little body with pain until you are unable to leave me! _Crucio_!"

Tom screamed. The curse left his body shaking horribly, but he laughed. "You will not want me for very long," he told Malfoy. "Let me go or I shall hurt you more than you thought possible."

"How, Tom?" Malfoy inquired confidently. "I took your wand, placed it somewhere beyond your reach. How shall you destroy me before I've destroyed you? _Crucio_!"

Tom collapsed on the bed, tears streaming from his red eyes, hollering uncontrollably. He writhed insanely for a few moments, body on fire with pain. Blood began to pour from his mouth again. "Mmpphh....mmph....gaaaaa!" he shouted, clutching his head. "Damn you Malfoy! All this effort....for a mere Mudblood!" 

"Excuse me? Mudblood?" Malfoy laughed. "What Mudblood?"

"You fool!" Tom snarled through the blood and tears. "You left yourself open to this from the moment you met me! A stranger from nowhere! Did you ever ask about my family, my bloodline?"

"You are Salazar Slytherin's heir," Malfoy said, frowning. "You told me that you can trace your family line back to the Middle Ages..."

"_My mother's bloodline_!" Tom yelled. "You idiot! My mother is the direct descendant of Salazar, but my father....oh, my father, my dear namesake....he is dead! He is dead because I killed him! I killed that worthless, cheating Muggle!"

"_Muggle_?" Malfoy echoed incredulously. "Muggle? You....you're not..." 

"I AM A MUDBLOOD!" Tom exclaimed victoriously. "Ha ha ha! The one you claim to love is a _Mudblood_!"

Malfoy stood up from the bed in shock. "No, but....you hate Muggles! All you want is to destroy them!"

"Many people hate their lineage, their race, their creed," Tom pointed out. "After growing up in a Muggle orphanage, can you blame me for detesting them? Yes, that is right, Malfoy, I was raised in a _Muggle orphanage_. Between my education in Hogwarts, that is where I lived, among _them_."

"How could you not tell me?" Malfoy asked. "You let me _fuck_ a Mudblood?!" 

"Such vulgarity," Tom said disapprovingly. "Yes, Malfoy, I let you. I had to. The opportunity was much too rich to let slip by." He smirked. "And you were _so_ willing..." 

"Demon! I'll destroy you!"

Malfoy flew at him and grabbed him by the shoulders. He threw Tom down onto the floor and bound him with magic ropes. Tom only laughed. "So long as you do not kill me, Malfoy...."

"I shall make you _beg_ for your death, you dirty little animal! _Crucio_!"

He used every spell and hex he knew to hurt the boy. Love thrown aside, Malfoy ruthlessly battered him until his white flesh was barely visible beneath the blood and bruises. Tom screamed and cried, but not once showed any sign of regret. This only infuriated Malfoy more, and he tormented his lover well into the day.

Everyone in the apartment building heard the screams and flinched at the vile spells being thrown at the quiet young man on the top floor. They knew Malfoy and feared him, not daring to intervene for a long while. 

"Treacherous dog!" Malfoy kicked at the shivering heap that was Tom, and the youth cried out. "You love pain do you? I'll show you true pain!"

Tom was helpless beneath a flurry of light that seared his entire body like so many whips. He had tried to call up his wand, but Malfoy must have put it somewhere enchanted. He writhed in agony at the man's feet, feeling fresh blood streaming down his back. He did not blame Malfoy for any of this, nor did he hate him; he simply wished it would end.

"STOP IT!" came a voice from the floor below. "Stop torturing that boy! I'm going to call the Ministry!!!"

"Go ahead!" Malfoy yelled back. "By the time you have I shall be gone and this disgusting worm shall be _destroyed_ beyond recognition!"

Tom shut his eyes, blood pouring from his mouth. "Malfoy..."

Malfoy turned back to him. "What?!" He kicked Tom. "What do you want?!" 

Tom hoisted himself up shakily on his fragile arms. "You cannot destroy me," he told him. "No one can." He coughed up more blood and bowed his head. "Ngh..."

Malfoy took a fistful of Tom's hair and lifted his head. "Dirty Muggle! You really think you are more powerful than _us_?" 

"Aaaaggg....Yes. YES! Yes, I am! I AM!" Tom yelled defiantly. "You may never serve me, but your son will! One day that stupid brat Lucius will serve me!"

"Not so long as I am alive!"

"You shall not be alive forever," Tom scoffed. "From your grave you will watch him serve me, be _my_ slave! All you purebloods! All your children will serve **me** one day or face their death!"

Malfoy was about to give him the Cruciatus Curse once more, but there was a noise from the hall. He threw Tom down and stood. "The Ministry!" he gasped. "I hope you've enjoyed your precious pain, you filth!"

"Go to hell," Tom said weakly. "You disgust me. A man born with everything I ever wanted....weak enough to give his heart to a Mudblood...." He laughed softly. "To think I ever envied you....I would rather have dirty blood than an average mind!"

Malfoy scowled but could not linger. In a loud and brilliant flash, he was gone. Tom's head hit the floor and he curled up, still completely naked and bound. The next thing he knew, Ministry workers had flooded the room and were gasping at the sight of him.

"My God, what was done to you?" gasped a worker named Longbottom. He kneeled down beside Tom, not daring to touch him. "Weasley, get over here! We need someone to break these ropes, they're burning him!"

The ropes were dissolved and Tom was freed. He made a small, amused sound; his limbs were too sore to enjoy the freedom. Longbottom was looking into his eyes, trying to survey how much Tom was damaged internally. He shook his head. "I can't even see anything," he confessed. "His eyes....they're...."

Tom figured it was not the best time to boast that he had gone through an illegal ritual. Let them blame it on Malfoy or whomever they wanted.

"He has to be taken to St. Mungo's straight away!" Longbottom shouted at his colleagues. He fumbled in his pocket and removed a vial. "Drink this. You shouldn't be conscious in your state. Don't worry, lad. When you wake up you'll be in the hospital. We'll keep you safe."

Tom tried to take the vile but he could not feel his hand, which was shaking violently. Longbottom sat him up a little, covering him with his cloak. "Here. I'll give it to you then. Just answer us this: who in God's name did this to you?" 

Tom just shook his head. "...."

Longbottom sighed. "Right then. Here. Poor thing."

Tom drank the potion and fell asleep on the spot.

Tom awoke one week later in St. Mungo's. Even through the medicinal potions the Healers had given him he could feel the immense pain from all his wounds. His body was heavily bandaged around his entire chest and midsection. His arms were bandaged and his upper right leg, as well as his head. He lay still, gazing at the ceiling, and his heart began to ache mildly.

The sun was streaming in from the window beside his bed, warming his cold body. Outside he could see a clear, blue summer sky. How long had it been since he'd looked at the afternoon sky? He remembered looking up this way often at Hogwarts; he had appreciated the open air as opposed to the foggy drear of the Muggle town around the orphanage.

Tom shut his eyes and noticed that he was crying. It was all right, he figured, since they would be his last tears. Now that he was free of Malfoy, he could begin the second part of his life. From now on, he would be Voldemort.

Whereas Tom was still a child and learning, having to do anything to get to the top, Voldemort was a grown man that could fight his own way there. Tom had opened the door for him, and now he could step into his own power. Voldemort would never cry or be hurt physically or emotionally. Voldemort was inhuman.

Tom smiled. "I am Lord Voldemort," he whispered to himself. "One day...all shall bow to Lord Voldemort...."

A female Healer walked into the room. "Tom Riddle?"

Tom frowned. He was beginning to detest that name. "Yes?" 

"You have a visitor."

Tom wondered if it was Malfoy or Ministry workers coming to bother him. He nodded sleepily in the sunlight. "Mm hm."

There were footsteps, and he heard the Healer shut the door. "So, who wishes to see me?" Tom asked lazily.

"One who has not seen you in quite a while."

Tom's eyes shot open and he turned his head. To his horror, Dumbledore was there. He was wearing dark blue robes lined with gold moons and a matching hat. His long auburn hair and beard was now almost completely white. He strode in lightly, although his face held a severe look, and sat down on a chair at Tom's bedside.

"What happened with Malfoy?" he asked casually. "I thought you two were getting on so well...."

Tom drew a breath. "We were, he fell in love with me, I cut him loose, he did this to me," he explained quickly. Dumbledore held his face in his hand and looked at his eyes. "I did that myself," Tom said.

"I see." Dumbledore released his face. "Tom, Tom....however do you manage to push every single living thing away from you? I thought if you would allow anyone to love you it would be Malfoy, since he fits your narrow-minded view of perfection."

"He is perfect except for that one nagging little problem; he believes in love." Tom shook his head. "I'm beginning to see just how strong I am. Even purebloods pale in comparison to me...."

"You are not strong, Tom," Dumbledore sighed. "You are the weakest person I have ever seen."

"Not anymore," Tom insisted. "Do you see my eyes? I've conquered my only weakness: my soul!"

Dumbledore shook his head, knowing he could not argue with someone so far gone. "Tom....oh, Tom..." 

"No, I am not 'Tom Riddle' any longer!" Tom exclaimed proudly. "From here on forward I shall be known as Lord Voldemort."

Dumbledore smiled and took the youth's hand in his own. "You shall always be Tom in my eyes," he replied. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, the broken child that keeps himself locked away where no one but himself can hurt him. You could have done such great in this world, Tom..."

"I _will_ do great things in this world," Tom said. He laughed. "We could argue this for days and never let the other win, couldn't we?" 

Dumbledore nodded. "You have a point. I suppose what will come will come, and in the end we shall both see who was right." 

"Until then we'll both believe our own truths," Tom added. "So, Dumbledore....is there something you wanted specifically? I would like to rest some more soon."

Dumbledore held Tom's hand to his lips for a long moment. Then, he laid it back on Tom's chest and brushed his black hair aside. "I came to see you, and I am afraid I've seen enough."

"Giving up on me, Dumbledore?"

"No." Dumbledore stood. "I will never give up on you, Tom. If I had, I would have killed you already." He leaned over and kissed Tom's forehead. "....Goodbye, Tom."

Tom turned his face. "Hmph...." 

Dumbledore stared at him sadly for a moment, and then left the room with a heartfelt sigh. Tom smiled to himself. Dumbledore was out of his life for the moment, the only thing left to do with him was kill him someday. Not today, but someday in the future he was certain he would end the miserable old man's life once and for all. And oh what a happy day that would be....

The door to the ward opened again. Tom turned to it, expecting Dumbledore. Instead, Malfoy had entered unannounced. Tom narrowed his eyes.

"And what brings you here, my former lover?" he asked. "Come to admire your work?"

Malfoy stood over the bed, staring at Tom. His face was stony, but there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. Tom stared into them with his imperfect Legilimency and said, "You regret hurting me. No matter what you said....you still....think you love me."

"I do still love you, Tom, and I always will." Malfoy turned his gaze to the window. "....I tried to tell everyone about your dirty blood, but they did not take my word for it. I scarcely even believed it myself. However I am a resourceful man, and I located your father's home." 

Tom clicked his tongue. "Tsk. How clever. Did everyone believe you then?"

"No." Malfoy looked at him again. "I did not show them."

Tom nodded. "Ah, I see. Well I appreciate that."

"Why didn't you tell the Ministry that I was the one who beat you?" Malfoy asked. "Were you unable to speak much?"

"You fear Azkaban," Tom laughed. "Do not worry, Malfoy, when I decide to destroy you, you will be too dead to know it."

"You would kill me, Tom?"

"Perhaps....perhaps not," Tom said vaguely. "It largely depends on how mature _you_ are, dear Malfoy." He gazed up at Malfoy, eyes blood red in the sunlight. "Are you man enough to let me go?"

"I do not wish to let you go, but I know I could never hold onto you," Malfoy said bitterly. "Should you no longer want me....I will let you go."

Tom nodded. "I am very grateful." 

"No you're not." Malfoy smiled a little. "You feel nothing for me."

"I feel nothing for anyone," Tom pointed out.

Malfoy stared at him. "What can I say to you, Tom? After all is said and done....what can I say?" 

Tom laughed a little. "Kiss me and say 'goodbye'." 

Malfoy leaned down and kissed him; _this_ kiss was one of lovers, the last time their bodies would ever become one. Malfoy felt his heart breaking, and Tom could feel it as well. As for Riddle, well....even he was surprised by his own coldness; there was no sorrow in his heart whatsoever.

When Malfoy pulled away there were tears in his eyes. He kissed Tom again briefly, and then stood. "....Goodbye."

Tom kissed Malfoy's hand. "Goodbye, master."

Malfoy rushed from the room, black robes floating about his tall figure. Tom had seen in his eyes that he could not bear to stay another moment, and it amazed the cold young man. He shook his head in awe of the idiotic belief of love. 

Completely alone save for the other patients, Tom stared at his hands. He smiled a bittersweet smile. "Goodbye....Tom Riddle."

_I still remember the world  
From the eyes of a child  
Slowly those feelings  
Were clouded by what I know now_

Where has my heart gone  
An uneven trade for the real world  
I want to go back to  
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

I still remember the sun  
Always warm on my back  
Somehow it seems colder now

Where has my heart gone  
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger  
I want to go back to  
Believing in everything

Where has my heart gone  
An uneven trade for the real world  
I want to go back to  
Believing in everything  
Away

Where has my heart gone  
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger  
I want to go back to  
Believing in everything

I still remember..  


Evanescence _"Field of Innocence"_

** Fin**


End file.
